Photo by Steven Hylands
I wish I could tell you about the buildings I visited/ I wish I could tell you about the vast green and the cobbled streets. All I remember is the people/ and how from the moment I arrived I felt like a prince/ surrounded by princes and princesses/ the magnificent display of pride in a simple greeting/ having your very care chaperoned as if to say bring no worries, we do not worry here.
And I had no concerns at all save the one/ that I knew I didn’t want to leave. Our large party was briefly separated into quite rooms that dared to hide the vastness that lay just beyond the walls/ a single window to let in a breath of light/ reminding me to seat and relax, we won’t let you miss anything, I promise.
Considering the flight it took to get us there, it was a wonder I didn’t sleep sooner. A knock on the door had told me I took a nap/ and I thought I must be kidding my own sensibilities, like I couldn’t behave a little longer by remaining awake. But that was banished by the answer “the dinner is ready, it’s time.”
And my goodness did we feast. We cheered and toasted to everything, and I wondered why this tradition hadn’t passed itself down to me sooner/ that no amount of grief was cause enough not to have an ale and brave a smile, to laugh at death’s belief that it had took away from us what we love/ when we stay here at night, every night, reliving how we are held close to one another.
And we danced, always a partner, always turning, always singing, always a drink in hand, a gracious hand, insuring that you went for not, a beautiful smile, such wonderful genuine smiles that don’t speak of ill things that haunt you, just warm like an embrace that refuses to let you feel anything but love, echoing I am so glad you are here to catch me, her arms around my neck, my body close to her’s never losing it’s sweet rhythm, those eyes burning into you that you belong to me/ and if this sounds like a dream it was/ her dream given to me/ an ongoing greeting from the time I stood foot and the time that I had to leave her.
That’s how I remember her. I will see the Isle of Ireland again.